I freeze, the blood draining from my face. I can feel Simon looking at me, a desperate, triumphant gleam returning to his eyes. He thinks he has the upper hand. He thinks he found the weapon that will break me.
I open my mouth to defend myself, to explain that the debt wasn't mine, but Malcolm speaks first.
"You are misinformed," Malcolm says. His voice is so calm it is terrifying.
Preston frowns. "I am never misinformed, Malcolm. I have the financial records."
"You have outdated records," Malcolm corrects smoothly. He reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a folded piece of heavy, watermarked paper. He tosses it onto the center of the table. "Barbara Jennings has zero outstanding debt. Her medical collections were paid in full yesterday afternoon. She currently holds a secure trust fund managed by Vance Security."
Simon stares at the paper. The triumph vanishes from his face, replaced by absolute horror.
Preston doesn't look at the paper. He looks at Malcolm.
"You paid her debts," Preston says, his voice dangerously low.
"I secured my fiancée’s assets," Malcolm replies. "Just as I secured her physical safety. If anyone in this room attempts to investigate her family again, I will consider it an act of corporate espionage against my division. And I will respond accordingly."
The silence in the dining room is absolute.
Simon looks like he is going to be sick. The blonde receptionist is staring at her plate, terrified to move.
Preston Vance stares at his oldest son. For the first time since I walked into this house, I see the patriarch of the Vance family realize that he has completely lost control of the board.
Malcolm doesn't look at his father. He turns his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine.
You are not a liability.
I look back at Simon. I don't feel anger anymore. I just feel pity. He is a small, weak man hiding behind his father’s money, and he just realized that he picked a fight with the devil.
"Now," Malcolm says, turning back to the table and picking up his water glass. "What is for dinner?"
CHAPTER 14
MALCOLM
The first course is a roasted butternut squash soup that tastes like dust.
I eat it anyway, my movements deliberate and unhurried. The silver spoon clicks softly against the porcelain bowl. It is the only sound in the massive dining room.
Preston has not touched his food. He is staring at the heavy, watermarked document resting in the center of the mahogany table. The proof that Barbara Jennings is no longer a financial liability. The proof that I anticipated his move, neutralized his private investigator, and effectively neutered his youngest son before the appetizers were even served.
Simon looks like he is going to vomit. He is gripping the stem of his wine glass so tightly his knuckles are white. The blonde receptionist—I believe her name is Chloe, though it is entirely irrelevant—is staring at her soup as if she hopes she can drown in it.
I glance at Audrey.
She is sitting perfectly straight, her shoulders squared beneath the sharp cut of the charcoal suit. She hasn't touched her soup either, but she isn't looking at her plate. She is looking directly at Simon.
It is a terrifying, beautiful thing to witness.
When she walked into the hotel bar three days ago, she was a casualty. She was mourning the loss of her life. Tonight, she is the executioner. The vintage diamond on her left hand catches the light from the chandelier every time she shifts her weight, a constant, blinding reminder to the man sitting across from her of exactly what he threw away.
"You always were prone to dramatic gestures, Malcolm," Preston finally says, breaking the silence. He picks up his napkin, dabbing the corner of his mouth with slow, calculated precision. "Buying a woman’s affection by paying off her mother’s debts. It’s terribly cliché."
"I didn't buy her affection," I reply, setting my spoon down. "I removed a vulnerability. There is a difference."
"Is there?" Preston tilts his head, a patronizing smile touching his lips. "She is sitting at this table because you wrote a check. If Simon had written the check, she would still be sitting next to him."
Audrey’s jaw tightens. The muscle jumps just beneath her ear.
